Swan Song
by Ryaninthesky
Summary: Based on the 1940 movie 'I love you, again,' Con artist Emma Swan gets hit on the head only to find that she's spent the last 13 years as upstanding small-town sheriff Emma Mills. After she realizes that there is money to be made scamming the good people of Storybrooke, her plans are complicated with the entrance of her beautiful soon-to-be ex-wife, Regina Mills.


There are three types of people on a boat. There are the people who can't stand the sea, and spend the whole trip sequestered in their bedrooms, reading or playing Monopoly or some such. The second category are equally as sick, but spend as much time as possible pouring liquor down their throats in a quite logical attempt to counteract the liquid outside with liquid inside. The third and final group of people have a terribly tendency to be so thoroughly happy and agreeable that the other two wish they would jump off of the ship.

Emma Mills had the third type in spades.

"Last night on the boat, gentlemen. Join me in a drink?"

The blonde woman gingerly took a seat on the bar stool, not quite managing to hide her grimace at the sticky, salt-stained wood. It was late afternoon, and the room wasn't crowded, so her largess was limited to two men who slumped rather glumly over their drinks. These two, a Mr. Hobson and Mr. York, exhibited some mild surprise at her invitation, until Ms. Mills elaborated that they would be paying for their own drinks. And ordered a cranberry juice.

"Keep the change!" She smiled magnanimously at the bartender, counting out three crisp dollar bills.

"Thanks lady." The juice was $2.75. At least the two other guys had ordered scotch and sodas. And, the bartender thought tiredly, his shift was almost over. The next guy could handle the fucking cranberry juice.

"You know," Emma turned to her drinking companions, "you should really come through Storybrooke sometime. You don't know what you're missing."

A significant, long-suffering look passed between the two men. One took a deep drink of his scotch.

Emma, oblivious, continued. "There's really nothing like a nice small town to settle down in. Rotary club, school sports, the local theatre. That's what keeps people together, gentlemen. Community involvement!"

A commotion interrupted such scintillating speech as another man stumbled up to the bar. His brown suit was rumpled and his hat slightly askew, but he seemed to be all the more jovial for that. He certainly looked it as he grinned widely and clapped Emma on the shoulder a tad too hard, making her cough. "Drinks on me, buddy! Make it…" He swayed a little as he tried to count the people before him. "Five."

Gently extracting the drunk's hand from her shoulder, Emma decided it was time to turn in. 9 o'clock was pushing it, anyhow.

"I don't drink, sir."

The man squinted at her. "I know you! Ms. Cranberry juice Mills!"

"Goodnight."

"I don't think so. I'm buyin', so tonight you drink!"

Mr. York, clearly not understanding his desire to keep Emma around, piped up. "Aw, let her go Booth. It's probably past her bedtime."

August Booth waved the other man off, making another grab for Emma's shoulder. She shook him off with relative ease. He was seeing two of her, after all, and that made a total of four shoulders to grab, which rather decreased the odds that he could get one of his two hands on them.

"You're inebriated."

"Wha-?"

Exactly. Emma didn't exactly stalk off but decided that after this upsetting incident the crisp sea air would do her some good. And hopefully this man Booth wouldn't follow her too far from the bar. Leaving the others to make friends with the drunk, she made for the deck.

August turned to one of the...three...two...four men next to him.

"What'd she say?"

"In-e-bri-ated."

"Oh she did, did she?" He staggered outside. He'd show her who was ineber...inbria…drunk.

"Look, lady, you don't even know the difference between drunk and havin' a little fun." From what he'd seen on this trip, Ms. Mills probably hadn't had a good time in her life. And desperately needed one. But at the moment his pride had been hurt "I can walk a straight line with anyone here. Anyone on the boat!" His face brightened. "I'll show you, hold on."

He climbed up on the railing, which was about a foot across. Suddenly, looking down, the waves looked a little more...ulp...wavey than they had from the deck. And a long way down.

"I don't think that's a very good idea, Mr. Booth."

Fuck it. He wasn't going to take orders from some uptight, stuffed-shirt, small town…"Look ma, no hands!" He covered his eyes, taking a couple of wobbly steps and gaining confidence. He could do this. No problem. He had always been good at…

Slip

Splash!

"Man overboard!" Emma yelled. She had seen this coming, this was exactly why she didn't drink. Of all the idiotic... "HEY!" She called again, grabbing a life preserver and throwing it in the general direction of August. There was no reason to risk her own life, of course, not when there were sailors paid for this sort of thing and why was the life preserver line closing around her ankle like that?

The water was obscenely cold when Emma hit it.

Sailors hurried to lower the lifeboat as a crowd rushed to the railing, yelling and pushing and threatening to send a few more passengers into the icy water.

"What happened?"

"It's Booth! He went overboard and Mills jumped in to save him!"

After the shock of cold water passed from her brain Emma paddled furiously, trying to negotiate her still-drunk swimming partner and the slippery life preserver. Really, you'd think they could make these easier to hold on to. But the sailors reached them quickly, oars churning the waves as first Booth and then Emma were pulled to safety.

The last thought Emma had before an errant oar came crashing down on her head was that this was just not her night.

The next thought Emma had was that it was too fucking painful to think. Dear Lord, what had she been doing last night! Whatever it was, she hoped she still had all the limbs she was born with. And her wallet, for that matter. And maybe her gun so she could put herself out of her misery. "Ngh…" Against her better judgement, she opened her eyes.

A man she didn't recognize - although with his brown hair, brown eyes, and general scruffiness he could be almost anyone - greeted her.

"Hey there killer, how are you doin' ?"

"You! You hit me. What the fuck do you think you're doing? Where's the money?"

He had the gall to look confused. "Money? Hey, I think you'd better lie down."

He had a point, as the room was a little blurry and seemed to be...moving? Not that she was gonna let this punk see it. Come to think of it, this wasn't her room. Definitely not a hospital, either. Maybe a hotel room? Emma shook her head to clear it, instantly groaning in pained regret. It hurt too much to speculate when she should probably just ask. "What the fuck happened, then?"

"It was a sailor with an oar. How's your head by the way?"

"A sailor with a-" That explained the moving room, at least. Some kind of boat. But why? "No, no, somebody hit me. I had 10 grand to put on the fight, somebody grabbed me, I took a swing and…"

The man was starting to look uncomfortable. More uncomfortable, anyway. "No, you jumped overboard to save me and a sailor hit you on the head. Thanks, by the way. Look, are you sure you don't want a doctor?"

Very, very sure. "Shit." That about summed it up, anyway. "What day is it?"

"March 12, 2013."

Holy Mary mother of - "2013!"

"Yeah." The guy - she really should get his name - started to get up. "I'm getting a doctor."

She pushed him down. Well, pushed him, and he obligingly sat down. "Listen, who are you? Who am I, for that matter? I mean, what's my name?"

"Emma Mills. Well, you're Emma Mills. My name is August Booth."

"Nice to meet you," Emma mumbled absently. "Hey! My name isn't Mills, it's Swan!"

August shrugged. "Here you're Mills."

"I think-" She paused. "I mean it must have been - you hear about these things in movies but you don't think they'll ever happen to you." Emma got up, running her hands through her hair and examining herself in the mirror. Same eyes, same mouth. Terrible haircut, but she could fix that. Blonde again, too; she had been a redhead, before, although that was dye and the blonde was natural. Definitely older. A new scar under her ear.

"The last thing I remember it was July 1, 2000, and I was on my way to place a bet in Boston. Some guy tried to take it...he must have hit me just right. Some luck, huh? And I forgot everything. Forgot who I was. Until now. I guess getting hit on the head must've, I don't know, knocked everything back into place."

"Wait a second." Recognition was dawning in August's eyes, and she wasn't sure she liked it. "You're not the Emma Swan who went in with Mr. Gold, are you? Thirteen years ago in Boston, that'd put it about right."

No, she definitely didn't like it. She'd been out for awhile, sure, but she wasn't stupid. "And if I were?"

"Hey, no worries here, Swan. You're among friends. Besides, you saved my life, remember?"

Emma grinned. Actually, grinning kind of hurt, so she settled on a tight smile. "What's your game, then?"

"A little of this, a little of that. Small stuff on the boats. Nothing in the same league as you are. Were." He shook his head a little. "This is the craziest shit. I never would have pegged you for a thief."

"I prefer con artist. Sounds more impressive that way. Say, what kind of person was this Mills?"

"Terrible. I like Swan much better."

"Gee, thanks."

"No kidding, you were the most uptight bitch I've ever seen. Er, sorry. But all you ever talked about was Storybrooke this and Neighborhood Watch thar. You didn't even drink!"

August looked physically pained at the thought, and Emma couldn't blame him. No alcohol for thirteen years? It was a wonder she'd survived this long.

"What's a Storybrooke?"

"Not a what, a where. It's where you live. Somewhere in Maine."

Jesus. Sounded more like a Disney theme park than a town. Might as well see if this Mills had any money. She picked up her wallet gingerly - it was still wet, but serviceable. She wasn't sure she could take any more shocks today. Damn, but she'd been busy in thirteen years. Credit cards, club cards, ticket stubs from local plays. And on the table, a sheriff's badge.

A fucking sheriff's badge.

"Fuck." Emma raised a hand and massaged her temple. Maybe she should see a doctor, after all. How could a knock on the head take her from Boston crime and 10 grand in her pocket to sheriff of some hick town in Maine?

"Hey, look at this." August had been pawing through some papers on the desk. She didn't mind - they weren't hers anyway, not really. He held up something with small numbers and graphs. Her head throbbed.

"I'm not exactly in reading shape. Just tell me what it says."

"Statement of funds, Account C. $2,567,254.83."

Now there was something to give up thirteen years for! "Two...two point five million dollars…"

"And eighty-three cents."

"And that's just account C! That means there must be an A and B account too!"

August grinned. "It could go through the whole alphabet. Not bad for Storybrooke."

"You know…" Maybe it was the knock on the head, and sure, it sounded a little crazy, but… "Maybe I ought to pay this Storybrooke a visit. Want to come with? I'll cut you in for 25%"

August's face brightened noticeably. He'd had some fleeting thoughts about going straight after his little brush with death, but this sounded like a lot more fun. After all, shouldn't he be helping out the woman who saved his life? "I definitely like the new you. Just so you know, I would have taken ten. After all, you did save my life."

"I'll remember that if I need to renegotiate." This time Emma did grin, and it didn't hurt at all.

A day later, and Emma was feeling much better about the world and her place in it. Sure, she'd had to send August to get her a drink from the bar - no need to raise suspicion - and her tailored business clothes made her feel a little like a kid playing dress-up, but that was a small price to pay for a cozy fortune somewhere in the middle of Storybrooke, Maine. And other accounts! She laughed, moving over to the rail to stand next to August. Never had Portland looked so beautiful! Never had the sun shone so bright! Never had...she let her eyes roam over the waving crowds at the dock, catching flashing dark eyes and red lips.

Never had Portland looked so inviting.

"Eighteen days alone on the boat is certainly…" She gulped as the woman's blouse strained to keep up with her waving hand. "...a long time to be alone on a boat…" Wow "...for eighteen days."

August followed her eyes and immediately stiffened. "Hey there killer, you can't give me a quarter interest in a woman."

"Cut me some slack, it's been thirteen years."

"O-kay, but remember. Two point five million."

They moved down the gangplank and Emma waved him off. "I remember, I remember."

"Emma!" The strange woman - who was not so strange, apparently, and fuck amnesia was a hell of a drug - stepped into their way. She was undeniably beautiful, if rather severe in a dark business suit and white blouse, but her face was softened by a hint of concern. With a slight jolt, Emma realized that concern was for her. "I came as soon as I heard, of course. Are you alright?"

"Oh, you know me" Almost certainly better than Emma herself did. "Can't keep a good woman down for long."

"I'm the lucky guy she rescued." August piped up.

Emma started. She had actually forgotten for a second that August was still there. And there was no good way to introduce him now, when she didn't know who the hell the woman was. Better make a strategic exit and let August handle reconnaissance. "I'll be right back. Gotta, uh, check on the bags."

August suppressed a sigh. He could already tell this woman was going to be trouble. Well, maybe with a little bit of luck he could head it off.

"Ma'am. My name is August Booth. I'm a doctor, and since Emma saved my life I feel I owe it to her to make sure she regains perfect health. She's had quite a shock, and she needs rest."

The woman regarded him coolly. "Do you know who I am, Dr. Booth?"

"Well, whoever you are, you just leave Emma to me and I'll let you know how she's doing in a few days."

"I am Emma's wife. Regina Mills."

Shit. This was going to be harder than he thought. "Ah, of course." He only barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. "I should have known."

Emma picked that moment to return, which was good because August was seriously considering running screaming into the night. Well, into the mid-afternoon, anyway.

"Everything's taken care of. What'd I miss?"

"I was just telling your wife Regina that you need plenty of rest."

Emma looked stunned, but thankfully Regina seemed to take it as a side effect from the incident. Or maybe not that much had changed, and she always looked like an idiot in front of her. Her wife….damn….Emma collected herself as best she could, which she was pretty damn proud of, under the circumstances. "Rest. Yeah. A few days in bed sounds great."

Regina narrowed her eyes. "Are you sure you're alright? I can get you a wheelchair if-" But Emma waved her off.

"Oh no, I'll just...if I can lean on you, I'm sure I'll be fine." She wrapped her arms around Regina's waist. "C'mon, Doctor."

A short cab ride later, and Emma was happily surveying the hotel suite she'd just procured at one of the nicer hotels in town. She had wondered why Regina didn't offer her own hotel room, but it was better to let it go. She didn't want to look too out of it. And, okay, this hotel was a little expensive when they hadn't actually gotten her hands on any money yet, but the credit card had gone through alright and she was only going to be spending a couple days there, at most.

It was totally worth it, she decided. Stone floors, plush carpets, fresh flowers, and she'd heard something about complimentary apple cider and cookies every night. Brilliant. When she was a millionaire she was definitely going to get someone on that.

"My, you've certainly outdone yourself, dear." Regina's voice was carefully neutral, but there was an undercurrent of confusion and Emma winced. She'd forgotten for a second what a penny-pincher her other personality had been. Well, that would just have to change. She'd tell everyone she'd had a near death experience and decided to enjoy life or something.

While August was eagerly exploring their new digs, Regina motioned Emma over to where she was standing in the little kitchenette, playing with a glass. Emma swallowed heavily - this was getting to be a bad habit - watching those long, slender fingers run around and around the edge of the glass. She put on her best winning smile and walked over.

"Get rid of the doctor." Regina whispered, glancing at the adjoining door.

Now this was more like it.

"Hey 'Doc'," Emma called, poking her head into his room. "Get lost for a little bit, okay?"

"Oh no. I'm not going anywhere with that woman around. She'll see through you about five seconds from now and bye bye millions."

"I can handle her." Emma scoffed.

"Yeah, that's what I'm worried about."

"Don't you think she's going to get suspicious if you're always around? I'm a hero, you know, back in the arms of my loving wife after a long trial at sea."

August sighed, but she had a point. Damn it. "Alright, alright, save the crap lines for your wife. Just don't get in over your head, okay?"

Emma held up three fingers. "Scouts honor."

"You were a scout?"

"No, but I did eat a Brownie on-"

August cut her off with a groan. "I'm going, I'm going. Fuck."

Emma just winked at him. Crap lines, indeed.

With August gone, things were looking up in Emma's book, so much so that Regina's request to talk only slightly dampened her spirits. She gestured to the couch. "Okay then, lets get comfy."

For some reason, Regina neatly sidestepped the invitation, instead choosing an overstuffed armchair across from the couch and still managing to look like a queen on her throne. Ouch. Well, maybe Emma had been in the doghouse before she left. Shouldn't take too much time to talk her way out of that, Emma thought, and then they could get to the important stuff. Like a kiss for the conquering hero.

"We need to talk about the divorce."

Regina had left Emma stunned for a second time today, but this one was infinitely less pleasurable than the first. After all, she'd found out she was married to the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen, and subsequently that that woman was divorcing her, all in one day. It just really wasn't fair.

"Divorce?! I mean, uhm, I thought maybe we could start over. Clean slate from now on, Regina, just give me a chance."

Regina was ignoring her. Dammit. Apparently she'd heard all that before.

"A thing like a divorce can break up a marriage!"

Okay, that was a bit stupid, but at least now Regina looked equal parts amused and annoyed, rather than just annoyed.

"So I've heard. Emma, we agreed this was for the best." No one agreed to this, Emma wanted to scream. Whoever she had been for the last few years was clearly an idiot. "Take as much time as you need to recover, of course." Regina looked physically pained to say this, and Emma felt a little like a kicked puppy. Had she been such a bad wife that Regina couldn't wait to divorce her? "Thomas is almost done drawing up the papers. You don't need to worry about dividing our assets, of course, but we do need to discuss custody."

"Custody?!" Emma squeaked, immediately regretting it when Regina looked at her strangely. Suddenly she was missing August's presence very, very much.

"Of course. I want to make it as easy as possible on Henry." Please let Henry be their dog, please please please. "He is your son, after all, and you'll just have to make time for him." Damn.

"Regina, about the divorce, I mean, it kind of makes a girl feel not wanted. If I was hurting you…" Regina scoffed. Okaaay, different tact. "Or if, say, I were cheating on you, I could see, of course, but…"

Regina cut her off, which was a good thing since Emma was digging herself into a hole she didn't quite know how to get out of. The fact that the other woman was laughing at her was a blow to her pride she was willing to overlook under the circumstances.

"Cheat? You? I'd almost like to see you try." Well, Emma was almost willing to overlook that. Almost. Ouch.

At any rate, Regina was gathering her purse and coat and Emma was far too shell-shocked to stop her. "I'm staying at the Regency if you need anything. And Emma…" Her eyes did that slight softening thing again that made Emma's stomach flip and her brain go all mushy. "Do let me know if you need anything, or have your doctor friend call." Almost as soon as it had come, the moment disappeared and the hard, haughty walls that apparently Regina Mills had perfected came up. "We don't want anyone thinking I took advantage of you."

"No" Emma agreed weakly. "We certainly wouldn't want that."

Almost as soon as Regina had swept out the door, August stepped back through it. He must have passed Regina in the hall, though, because he looked equal parts wary and relieved.

"What's up, killer?"

"Only I could find out I'm married and getting divorced all in the same day." Emma tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace.

"Ouch. She wants your money?"

Emma shook her head.

"So what's the problem?"

"There's a kid."

August let out a low whistle. A wife they could handle - especially if she was halfway out the door already - but a kid…."That's tough."

"No kidding."

August was trying to think of something smart to say - what was there to say, anyway? - when the door banged open.

Emma's head swiveled around so fast she was forcibly reminded that just yesterday she'd suffered massive head trauma. Still. what was she paying all this money for anyway if the hotel couldn't at least give her a phone call, something, some kind of warning that crazy people were going around banging doors? What was this, anyway? Grand Central Station?

The newcomer, a short, dark man with close cropped salt-and-pepper hair, stalked around like he owned the place, yelling for Regina.

"Hey, pal, she's not here."

He growled, growled, at her. "Where did she go, Sheriff?" Damn, he even made that sound like an insult.

Fuck him, then. Emma had already had too long a day for this shit. "Who are you?"

He looked at her oddly. Oops. Apparently Emma was already supposed to know him. "I mean, who do you think you are, coming in here like this?" Nice save, Swan.

"I'm looking for my fiancee."

"That's funny, I could have sworn you were yelling for my wife."

He sneered. "Only until the divorce goes through, and you know it."

Was everyone out to get her today? It was like she'd made more enemies as an upstanding citizen than she'd ever made as a con artist. "Things change, buddy."

"Yes, Regina finally came to her senses and realized that you'd never treat her the way she deserves to be treated." He had kind of a glassy-eyed look when he was talking about Regina and Emma groaned. Did the other woman really want this guy following her around like a lost puppy? She pushed herself up from the couch to face him.

"I've had just enough from you -"

He punched her. Fuck, that hurt.

"I've been wanting to do that for ten years, Sheriff." Okay, he'd gotten the drop on Emma there, but she grinned when he turned around and managed to run into the still-open door, giving them matching black eyes.

"Karma's a bitch." The look he gave her as he marched out of the suite was worth a little taunting. August helped her up from the floor.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, peachy. He just surprised me, that's all."

August grinned. "You'll get him next time, huh?"

"No problem." She collapsed on the couch and reached for the hotel phone. "Stop laughing and get me some ice, doctor."

In her own, much smaller hotel room at the Regency, Regina was holding a steak to Sidney's black eye. She'd been quick to upbraid him for fighting - after all, they weren't savages - but he maintained he'd run into a door. She was relatively certain he was telling the truth. He was probably too scared of her to lie, anyway. Still, somewhere deep inside, underneath all the missed dinners and arguments and nights spent sleeping alone, a voice whispered to her 'what if?' What if, in a fit of passion, Emma had hit him? Cared about her that much, didn't want her to leave?

But there were missed dinners and all the rest, and the voice was buried. The phone rang, and Regina gratefully answered it. At least, until she heard the voice on the other end.

Emma had had time to think, time to plan. "Regina? Yes, I'm sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to apologize for-" Regina cut her off, which was what she'd been banking on.

"You should apologize! I can't believe you'd hit Sidney!"

Emma grinned and turned to August, covering the receiver. "His name's Sidney."

"Of course it is."

"How about I take you to dinner, to make up for it?"

Regina scowled. "I don't think that's a very good idea."

"That's too bad. You know how these head injuries can be, darling. It could take me months to recover…"

"Very well. If you must. We," Regina emphasized the plural. "Will be joining you for dinner."

It wasn't perfect, but Emma would take it. In fact, she might just enjoy the opportunity to put one over on old Sidney. "Fantastic. Morocco Lounge, say, eight o'clock?"

Enormous red leather doors greeted Regina at the Morocco Lounge. Inside, the nightclub was equally as opulent, ridiculous...and exclusive. She had no idea how Emma had ever heard of this place, much less why she had suggested it instead of a perfectly respectable restaurant, but she was not going to be intimidated by her soon-to-be ex-lover. "Come on," she snapped at Sidney, who was gaping.

One eager hostess later and Regina and Sidney were sitting at what had to be one of the best tables in the house, with a perfect view of the dance floor and - wonder of wonders - the live band. Even Regina couldn't hide her surprise when a waiter showed up with lobster and champagne. She was beginning to wonder if Emma had had a nervous breakdown on the boat and was trying to blow through all her money.

"Sorry I'm late." As if summoned, Emma appeared behind her. "But I had to make a few last-minute stops."

Despite herself, Regina ran approving eyes over the blonde woman. Somehow she'd managed a tailored suit for the occasion, which she seemed perfectly at ease in. Emma hadn't even looked this good at their wedding, which probably had more to do with the fact that they'd eloped, but still…

"Champagne, anyone?"

That snapped Regina out of her thoughts. "Emma, you don't drink."

Yeah, but there was no way she was going to stop just for appearances. Storybrooke would just have to deal with a few changes. "The doctor said I needed stimulants; a drink every fifteen minutes." She turned her attention to Sidney before anyone could comment. "Really Sid? Black tie?"

"At least he didn't have to buy it today." Regina snapped before Sidney could open his mouth.

Emma shrugged. She'd gotten her point across. Besides, the champagne and lobster were really good.

Sidney, however, didn't seem to be enjoying himself, which was perfectly fine with Emma. In fact…

"Would you like to dance?" She asked Regina, who gave her a withering glare at the same time Sidney answered. "No!"

Emma grinned at him. "I wasn't asking you."

"I don't want to dance, Emma."

"Oh, well, if that's how you feel…" Emma stood up and began dancing by herself, drawing not a few confused stares and awkward laughs. Regina looked horrified. Apparently realizing that it was the only way to stop Emma, she threw her napkin onto the table and took Emma's hand.

"You're an idiot."

"Yeah, but I'm your idiot."

"Not when you're stepping on my feet." Which, come to think of it, Emma wasn't doing. "Where did you learn to dance like this?"

"Youtube." Emma offered helpfully, spinning Regina and drawing her in close with a quick glance at Sidney, who was systematically pounding his lobster into the plate with his fork. Regina quickly pushed her back at arms' distance.

"I don't know what you're up to, but you're not going to get it

"

"Why do I have to be up to something? I can't just dance with my wife?"

"Ex-wife, and no."

Unfortunately for Emma, the song ended and Regina pulled her roughly back to the table. The other woman had apparently regrouped.

"Emma, let's talk about the divorce. Are you going to fight it or not?"

Straight to the point, but Emma was ready for this.

"Well, I suppose...after a reasonable amount of time. Say, five or six weeks?" That would give her enough time to arrange things in Storybrooke, and hopefully to charm Regina ino bed a few times before she skipped town.

Sidney scowled, but remained silent. Regina looked thoughtful. Emma held all the cards, and she knew it. The last thing she wanted was a messy divorce. Still, there was something not quite right here...something she couldn't quite...oh. Oh. Oh, yes, she saw it now.

"Five or six weeks, you said?"

Emma couldn't help feeling like she was losing control of the conversation. Damn, this woman was good. Too bad it only made her more attractive.

"Well, you know, something like that, just for…"

"Just for the Sheriff's elections, you mean."

Huh!?

Emma tried to stutter out a reply but Regina was on a role, completely ignoring her. "Of course, I should have seen it sooner, but I didn't think even you would stoop so low. You think if we're going through a divorce you'll lose with the voters. Not that they'd vote for you anyway, not if they really knew you." Hey! That was low. At least, Emma thought it was low. No telling what her alternate personality had been up to. "Come, Sidney, we're leaving."

Shit. "Regina wait." No choice now. "Just six weeks, I promise. I won't fight anything after that. You're leaving me, you might at least let me have my job."

Regina huffed, but seemed to consider it. "Fine. Six weeks, and then I never want to see you again unless Henry's involved."

Sidney opened his mouth, but shut it with a look from Regina and busied himself helping her with her coat. Pathetic puppy.

When they were gone, Emma drained her glass and picked up the bottle. Dammit. Warm champagne and cold lobster. Still…

She'd replaced her cell phone earlier - the old one had been completely water-logged - and with a little fiddling managed to work out thirteen years of technological advance enough to call August.

"I think it's about time we went to Storybrooke."


End file.
